Taylor Squared
by winterlights13
Summary: Taylor Swift sees Taylor Lautner again, two years after breaking up with him.
1. Nashville

Taylor locked the door and walked down the street. Lately, she'd been doing this more often. Getting lost on the pavements of Nashville, looking at people playing guitar or enjoying the warmth of the sun. People having fun with their friends. There were also plenty of couples eating ice cream together or kissing in the middle of the street, but she tried to avoid them. What was usually a source of inspiration for her, was now something she didn't want to see.  
It wasn't that it hurt her or brought tears to her eyes or anything like that. It just reminded her of the emptiness she had felt inside her after Harry had left. She was fine, she really was. But with every couple she saw, she felt the memories taking a bit more power over her. And with the tour starting in only a couple of weeks, she didn't need that.  
So she headed towards a little cafe on the edge of the city centre. It was usually filled with tourists taking photos of everything they saw. She was often an interesting subject for them, and of course for fans who wanted to take pictures with her. They were the ones who made her days a little brighter. But today, the cafe looked pretty quiet. The only people Taylor could see through the window were some old men playing chess. She opened the door and walked towards her favourite spot right by the window. While she was looking at the menu trying to choose a latte, she felt someone's eyes on her. She looked up, trough the window and she saw someone standing on the other side of the street, looking right at her. He was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. His hair looked like he had just gotten out of bed and the look on his face was one of surprise, joy and apprehension at the same time. It was Taylor Lautner, whose heart she had broken two years ago. Seeing his face again made her spine tingle in a funny way. The feelings of remorse washed over her again. His eyes were locked on hers and neither of them moved.  
She had seen him since it happened, of course. At award shows, occasions like that. He had even come to one of her Speak Now shows. But those times, there had been thousands of people in the same room. It was nothing like this, where it seemed as if they were the only two people in the world.  
The moment of tension was interrupted by a waitress, asking her what she wanted to order. Taylor blinked and quickly looked at the menu. She ordered a maple latte and the waitress left her table. She looked outside, but he was gone.


	2. A lucky encounter

Taylor Lautner walked through the city with a fast pace, ignoring the annoyed looks from strangers as he slid past them. He had no intention of slowing down. He wanted to get as far away from her as possible. Why had he even bothered to come to this part of the city? As if she wanted to see him. He'd seen the confused look on her face. Of course she didn't. He should have gone home right away after the meeting. The director had asked him to drink a cup of coffee with him, but he had declined because he was tired from jet lag. He had been on his way to the hotel when he heard a song on the radio. A song that he knew by heart. It was the song she wrote after she'd left him. He had told her it was too late for apologies. He hadn't listened to it in a long time, but hearing it again brought back memories. Before he knew it, he was at her house, but she wasn't there. He had parked his car there and he'd slowly started walking towards the centre again. When he'd seen her, he hadn't been able to walk away immediately.

He was such an idiot. She didn't need him right now. She wasn't going to fall at his feet, apologising again. He'd said it was too late. He'd told her more than once.  
"Taylor! Taylor!"  
Oh no. The all too familiar sound of paparazzi closing in on him. He sped up his pace even more. This was the last thing he needed.  
"Over here!" He looked over his shoulder and saw the camera flashes. He looked around, searching for some alley to hide in. He quickly slid into a narrow road on his left and, with a gush of relief, he saw the door of a little shop. He ran towards it, entered the shop and slammed the door shut. He heard the paparazzi running past the alley. He sighed and turned around. It was an antiques store. There were old books and furniture everywhere he looked. Behind the counter was a man with grey hair and reading glasses. He was holding a book as if he had been reading it, but his eyes were focused on Taylor. "I'm sorry," Taylor said when he realised how rude his sudden entrance must have looked. "I was just..."  
"Don't worry about it," the man said in a gruff voice, "I'm used to people running into my store. Paparazzi walking around here all the time. You're one of those actors, aren't you."  
"Yes," Taylor said. He was feeling slightly uncomfortable with the man eyeing him like this, but he couldn't really leave yet. They were probably not that far away.  
"I know people like you. There's a girl who always comes in whenever she's fed up with them." He was looking out the window, quietly talking to himself.  
"But then, she comes in almost every week to look at new furniture we bought. She has good taste." Taylor let his words sink in. But he couldn't mean her.  
"Are you talking about-"  
"Beautiful, too. I shouldn't forget to call her about the table she ordered." The man suddenly looked at him. His eyes were smiling.  
"Can I help you?" he asked. His memory didn't seem to be at its best.  
"No, I'm just... I think I'm going to go." Taylor turned around.  
"She will probably be here around four p.m. to pick up her table," the man said. Taylor gave him a surprised look. The man smiled at him.  
"You're welcome," he said.


	3. A kiss

What on earth was his car doing here? Taylor Swift frowned and looked a bit closer. It was really his car, a black SUV. She would recognise it anywhere. But she hadn't seen it in a long time. Seeing him today had already been a surprise. She couldn't forget the way he had looked at her. It was different from the times before, when he had looked hurt and accusing. But why had he parked his car at her apartment? Was he waiting for her somewhere? She suddenly felt a burst of hope flowing through her veins. But it quickly faded away when she pushed the thought out of her mind. He didn't want her anymore. It was years ago. This had probably been the only free spot.  
She walked up the steps to the front door and she took her keys out of her bag. Just as she was opening the door, her phone rang.  
"Hey, it's Taylor Swift," she said.  
"Hi Taylor, it's John. Your antique table is ready to be picked up."  
"Oh, okay! I'm on my way."  
"You might walk out with more than a table today, Taylor." He hung up the phone.  
Taylor stared at her phone in blank confusion. Was John okay? He was quite old. He forgot things sometimes. Maybe he was just confused. Just like her.  
She closed the door again and walked to her car. With one last look at his, she drove away.

She walked into the antiques store and John greeted her with a smile, like always.  
"Taylor! There you are! We got this table repaired and cleaned for you."  
"Thanks, John," she said. "I'll load it into my car and you can send me the bill."  
"Do you need any help with it?" a third voice said. They both looked at the door of the store. In the entrance stood the boy with the tan skin.  
"Taylor," she whispered. She had meant to say it with more force, but she couldn't seem to find her voice. "What are you doing here?" she forced herself to sound calm and indifferent.  
"I thought you might need a hand with that table of yours. You can't carry it to your car on your own," he answered.  
"I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own things, thank you." It came out much more forceful than she had meant it to. She didn't know why she suddenly felt the need to defend herself. With a surprised look on his face, he said: "Okay. But I'll walk with you in case you need me."  
She shot a glance at John, who was smiling and looking from her to Taylor. Did he have something to do with this? She wanted to send Taylor away, to go home and to think about things. But she couldn't bring herself to refuse his offer. "Alright then."  
She thanked John and she picked up the table which was already waiting for her next to the counter. It was heavier than she had thought. But she wasn't planning on giving in. "Let's go," she said, faking a confident tone.  
She walked towards the door, where Taylor stood, and he was smiling at her as if he knew her thoughts. "Heavy?"  
"Not at all," she said and she walked past him. "Bye, John!"

This table was really heavy. My God.  
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, walking next to her.  
"Yes," she answered determinedly. "My car is not that far away. Speaking of which, where did you park yours?"  
He didn't answer her question. "Taylor, come on, don't be so feminist. I'll help you carry the damn thing."  
"No! I'm fine!" Her words came out much fiercer than she wanted. She couldn't stop herself. "What are you doing in Nashville anyway?"  
"I had a meeting with a director."  
They both kept quiet until they reached her car. She opened the trunk and he had put the table in there before she knew it. He was strong. She remembered his strong arms wrapped around her... Stop. Don't think about it. He hates you, remember?  
"Thank you," she said casually, "I think I can handle it now."  
"Are you crazy? You still have to carry it from the car to your house. I have to go there anyway."  
Of course. His car.  
"Okay. Get in," she sighed.  
They both got in and she drove away.  
"How many trees have you hit since I last saw you?" He chuckled.  
"Shut up! I haven't hit anything, actually." She said. He always used to joke about her driving. She got an empty feeling in her stomach.  
"Yeah, sure."  
They were quiet again for a bit.  
"That's a nice table you got," he said.  
"Don't bother. I know you hate antiques." She felt the tension slipping away as they were talking. He was the only one who could do this to her. When they were together, all she had to do was call him when she felt stressed out. He calmed her down like nobody else.  
"Hate is a strong word. I just like to spend my time in other ways. Like practicing my grape-catching skills."  
Before she knew it, she was laughing. She felt like she hadn't really laughed in months.  
"Yeah, you're the best grape-catcher I know. What's your record? Catching it from like five miles away?"  
"Something like that."  
They arrived at her apartment. They got out of the car and he helped her with the table.  
They walked into the building and they took the elevator to Taylor's floor. They were quiet in the elevator. There was a new tension between them, but not the same kind as there had been before.  
He patiently held the table while she was opening her front door.  
"Still that many locks?"  
"You have no idea how many stalkers I have to deal with. Better safe than sorry."  
He grunted. He always seemed to tense up whenever she talked about things like stalkers.  
When they walked in, he put the table at the spot she pointed towards.  
"Thank you," she said.  
"You're welcome," he replied. He turned around to face her, and his eyes seemed to pierce her. She felt the tingles running down her spine again.  
Before she knew it, he was standing only inches away from her.  
"I missed you," he whispered.  
And then he kissed her.


	4. Confusion

It was like the time that had passed since he had last kissed her, had disappeared.  
It still felt just as natural, like neither of them had ever kissed anyone  
else. The initial shock she felt vanished quickly, and she surrendered to his  
warm lips and his strong arms. How had she survived two years without him? She  
remembered telling him she needed a break, and giving him one last kiss, and  
walking away. When she'd come running back to him, it had been too late.  
He didn't want her anymore.  
Wait. What did he think he was doing? Kissing her to confuse her even more? To  
walk away again like nothing had happened? Leaving her with a broken heart  
again? She pulled her head back, put her hands on his chest and took a step  
back.  
"Taylor, what are you trying to do?" she whispered feverishly.  
He seemed to be just as bewildered as she was.  
"I... I don't know," he stammered. He also took a step back, so they were a few  
feet apart.  
She wanted to throw a horrible accusation at him, but she couldn't find the  
words. She was terrified of scaring him away, but she didn't want him to stay  
either.  
"I think I'm going to go," he said softly, still seeming to be overwhelmed by  
his own spontaneous actions.  
"Maybe that would be best," she answered. No. Don't go.  
"Yeah."  
"Yes."  
They stood there, looking each other in the eye. He wasn't getting ready to go  
away.  
"So I'll go now."  
"Okay."  
"I _have_ missed you, you know," he  
whispered.  
A wave of emotions rolled through her. Hope. Sadness. Fear. Desire.  
"I've missed you too," she replied with an accusing tone. But truthfully.  
"I'm sorry about what I said back then. I was stupid. I didn't know what I  
wanted."  
"So now you're coming back to get it anyway? I'm not some disposable thing you can  
just come running back to whenever you feel like it." She tried to keep her  
voice from shaking.  
"Taylor, you know that's not what I meant," he answered. He was still not going  
anywhere.  
"I know," she whispered. She felt like crying, but she couldn't show any  
weakness in front of him. She couldn't figure out what she was feeling. She  
should get him out before she gave in right before his eyes.  
"You should probably leave before any photographers sneak up on us. You can go  
out through the back door," she suggested.  
"Okay." He walked towards the door and she let him out. When he got into the  
elevator and the doors were closing, he  
took a step forward so they opened again.  
"Tay?" he said.  
"Yeah?"  
He shook his head. "Never mind." And the doors closed again.


	5. Pressure

Taylor Lautner looked around to see if there was any paparazzi ready to pull their camera's out. No, not today. His disguise – well, sunglasses and a hat – was working as it should.  
The streets of LA were crowded with tourists, admiring the city in the heat of the sun. It was warm for a spring day, a lot warmer than it had been in Nashville.  
Nashville.  
His mind had been there all week, even though he had returned days ago. He couldn't stand himself for being so weak. He saw her one time and he suddenly forgot about the rest of the world? He had told her he'd missed her. Not only that, he had also kissed her. After thinking about it for a while, he'd been surprised she hadn't slapped him in the face. He'd been ridiculous. He'd heard one song on the radio and suddenly he'd started acting insane. And now she probably hated him for being so rude. "I'm not some disposable thing you can just come running back to whenever you feel like it." Her words echoed through his mind. She probably never wanted to see him again. Well, she wouldn't. He would make sure to avoid temptation from now on.  
But she'd also said she missed him.  
No, don't think about it. Get your coffee and go home.  
He saw a coffee shop and walked towards it. He stopped to look at the newspaper rack in front of it. Maybe he would get a paper to read to get his mind off things.  
The headline on one of the newspapers caught his attention immediately.  
"TAYLOR SWIFT DATING ED SHEERAN", it said.  
It was like someone stabbed a knife through his chest. He felt ice cold, even though it was a warm day. He couldn't breathe for a few seconds.  
Then he realised that it was nonsense. This was one of the newspapers that always wrote lies about him, too. He felt a bit better thinking about all the stuff they'd said about him. This was probably just as untrue.  
But it affected him a lot more than he would like it to. He usually avoided articles about her and her 'boyfriends'. How would he feel if she really got into a relationship?  
He walked into the shop and he ordered a maple latte.  
He would hate it. He wouldn't be able to handle it and he would probably hate the lucky guy. That's how he would feel.  
When he got his order, he paid for it and he walked onto the street again. When he was walking home and sipping his latte, he thought about everything. He realised that he'd ruined his only chance of getting what he really wanted. He would never be free of her. He'd known that since he'd met her on the set of Valentine's Day. He'd tried to push it away after she broke up with him. But he would never succeed, even if she was happy with someone else.  
He needed to call her. He needed to apologise. Maybe there was still something worth saving.

Taylor Swift finished tuning her guitar. "Yeah, I'm ready," she said.  
"Okay, you can start," Nathan said. "Just play it, we'll do the vocals later."  
She started playing the song and she heard the lyrics in her head. They were about watching someone walk away after letting them go. Again.  
After she'd finished, she walked out of the recording cabin and took her water bottle out of her bag.  
"That was good, let's take a break and do the vocals. Maybe we can call Caitlin in today for the fiddle part, but I'm not sure," Nathan said.  
"She's out of town with Liz today," Taylor answered, "maybe we can do the drums with your keyboard." She took a sip of her water and Nathan nodded.  
Her phone rang. "Hey, it's Taylor," she answered it.  
"Hey," she heard his deep voice say. She was quiet for a few seconds. She wasn't expecting him to call her at all after she got so defensive last week.  
"Taylor," she said. She saw Nathan look up in surprise.  
"I was just wondering... are you going to the RF charity gala next week?"  
"Er... I'm not sure yet. I have to rehearse for the tour, so I don't know if I can make it," she lied. She had been planning to go. But if he was going to be there, she wasn't sure she would be able to keep her calm.  
"Oh, okay," he said, sounding slightly disappointed. "Well, let me know when you decide."  
"I will," she said. No. I won't.  
"Bye, Tay," he said.  
"Bye." She hung up the phone.  
Nathan looked at her and raised his eyebrows. Taylor felt her cheeks turn red. "What?"  
"So, I assume you're going to the RF then?" He chuckled.  
"No!" she exclaimed. "Why are you saying that?"  
"I don't know, maybe because I've known you for almost ten years? I know when something's bothering you, Taylor. I remember how heartbroken you were after you left him."  
"Actually, I'm not planning to go at all," she said stubbornly.  
"Really?" He obviously didn't believe her. Well, she'd show him. She didn't need anyone in her life right now. One heartbreak was enough for this year.


	6. Decisions

"So we just need to figure out how to get all the stuff there. We figured it out with the Speak Now Tour, so we can probably do it now." Andrea looked through her papers and got one out of the pile.  
"Yeah, if we can just make sure to call the bus people in time. That was a disaster two years ago." Taylor took a sip of her latte.  
"Hmm-hmm," Andrea said, distracted by her papers. She got out her reading glasses and frowned. Taylor always called it her financial advisor-look.  
"That was your fault though, Taylor," Scott Borchetta said.  
"It wasn't!" Taylor rolled her eyes. They'd been over this so many times.  
"Mom forgot to tell me I was supposed to do it."  
Scott chuckled. He exchanged a glance with Andrea.  
"Can you just stop bringing that up for two seconds?" Taylor said softly but irritated.  
"You seem a bit grouchy, Taylor, what's wrong?" Scott asked lightly.  
Whenever someone pointed out her crabbiness, it always made it even worse.  
"Nothing." She said, in a cross tone.  
Scott sighed. "Well, we should get to confirming your presence at the RF gala. They called."  
"I'm not going," Taylor replied.  
Scott, Andrea and the rest of the team were quiet for a moment.  
"What do you mean, you're not going?" Lucy said. "You said you would. And they're counting on you, Taylor. It's a charity event."  
"Does it even matter if I'm there or not? Plenty of other... celebrities will be there." Taylor started biting her nails and stopped herself once she noticed she was doing it.  
Andrea looked at Scott with her 'I'll talk to her'-look. Right. They weren't going to persuade her.  
She didn't want to hurt herself any more than necessary. Taylor would be there, and seeing him again would be much more painful than just staying away. She knew she couldn't be with him ever again. She'd tried it once and she'd messed up. It wasn't meant to be. She needed to stay out of his way and not put herself in the path of temptation. She needed to forget him.

Later, while she was getting ready to go to bed, she couldn't keep herself from thinking about it. While brushing her teeth, she let herself slip away into fantasies about seeing him there. She had to pull herself away from thinking about his eyes. His hair. His smile. She'd always felt so safe with him when they were together. Maybe...  
No. She wouldn't go.  
She spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. Why did this have to be so difficult? It was years ago. It was supposed to be getting easier, not harder. She went to bed, annoyed with herself. She dreamed about him, unsurprisingly.


	7. Cause

Taylor Lautner looked in to the rear-view mirror from the back of the car to check if his bowtie was still in the right place.  
"Taylor, stop checking yourself out," his driver said.  
"Shut up, James," he chuckled.  
"Fancy event, huh?"  
"Yeah, it's a charity gala." Taylor looked out the window and watched the city lights pass by. They would be there soon. But she wasn't going to be there, as she was probably trying to avoid him.  
"Good thing you're showing up there. Might as well boost your image from time to time."  
"Hm-hm."  
"Girls like that, too. Guys who go to charity stuff."  
"Yeah?" Taylor smiled.  
"I'm not going for the girls, though. You know that."  
"Right," James laughed.  
Taylor smiled and checked his phone. He hadn't heard from her since he'd called her. It didn't matter. This night wasn't about seeing her. Maybe he would call her again tomorrow. No. That would be too much like stalking.  
"We have arrived." James parked the car and looked over his shoulder.  
"Do you want me to open the door for you, sir?" he said sarcastically.  
"No, thank you," Taylor answered as seriously as he could manage. He opened the door himself and got out of the car. His security followed him.  
There weren't that many paparazzi as there would be at a regular red carpet event. Somehow, they tended to be drawn more towards award shows than charity galas. Not sensational enough, maybe.  
He smiled at the cameras as he walked by. It was more crowded behind the barriers closer to the red carpet.  
"Taylor!" the photographers were trying to get a good photo of him. He gave them his best 'charity is cool'-look.  
When he walked on, he saw some other people he recognised. All of them in tuxedos or long dresses.  
"Taylor!" a photographer shouted again, further down the red carpet. He looked around, but they weren't looking for him. They had meant someone else.

She was in a long, black dress. Her hair was carefully put up, with a few blonde locks falling naturally around her face. She looked into the camera flashes, but she wasn't smiling. She put her hands on her waist and gave them a proud look. Then, she turned away from the cameras, walking on towards the end of the carpet.  
Taylor caught himself staring at her as she walked away, unable to move. His eyes were fixed on her as she smiled at some other people she knew, the cameras still relentlessly flashing.  
"Taylor," his bodyguard whispered in his ear. He softly pushed Taylor forward. The touch brought him back to reality. He blinked a few times.  
"Yes," he said, his voice still quite steady. He walked on, his mind in a whole different place. Why was she here? Had she changed her mind?  
Then he realised that she'd never said that she wouldn't come. He'd just assumed that when she said she probably wouldn't make it. He'd known it was just an excuse when she'd said she had rehearsals planned, but he thought she would stay away because she didn't want to see him.  
How self-centred. Of course she wouldn't refuse to go anywhere because of _him_. What did he expect? For her to turn her life upside down to avoid him? He really wasn't that important to her.  
Somehow, he made it to the end of the red carpet without drawing too much attention to his confusion.

"You're in row M, seat 12," his bodyguard said.  
"Okay," he replied automatically, and he followed the group of people who were just entering the room. Row M wasn't difficult to find. He sat down and looked around, trying to convince himself that he wasn't looking for anyone in particular.  
She was standing a few rows away, talking to Selena Gomez. She was probably seated next to her, as she usually was. Then she suddenly looked at him. He would have looked away, but he couldn't, just like the day he'd seen her in the cafe. She didn't seem to have the same problem, as she swiftly looked away, talking to Selena again.  
Stop being a such a staring idiot all the time, he told himself. She probably thinks you're crazy.  
That's why she'd ended it in the first place. She'd said that he wanted something more serious than she did. She probably didn't want to get too attached. She wanted to be free.  
Then, she hugged Selena and walked towards him, carefully avoiding his eyes.  
He froze in his seat. Why did she make him so nervous?  
She sat down next to him. Of course. Seat 13.  
"Hi," she said casually.  
"Hello," he replied. He decided to just ask.  
"So you decided to come anyway?"  
"Yeah," she said, "I figured it would be nice to... go to a charity event again. It's always nice."  
"It is," he answered. "Hey, I'm really sorry about-"  
Her angry look made him stop talking.  
"Taylor! Not here." She looked the other way, and so did he, trying to look casual. There were probably photographers hidden behind every curtain.  
"Sorry," he said under his breath. He wasn't sure if she'd heard him.  
After a couple of silent minutes, she said something again.  
"So how are things going with your new film?"  
"Okay, I guess. I'm still talking with them, but it's almost certain."  
"Good." She smiled at him. He loved to see her smile.  
"How are rehearsals going?" He asked, because he didn't want her to stop talking.  
Her eyes lit up.  
"Quite well," she said, "I'm working on the different visuals right now, and coordinating with the dancers and stuff like that."  
"Great!" He smiled. In a rash, he took her hand and started asking her another question-  
But he was interrupted by the flash of a camera, breaking his train of thought.  
She quickly pulled her hand away, but it was too late. The photographer walked away, obviously pleased.


	8. Effect

Taylor was sitting on her bed, staring blankly at the wall. The pile of newspapers was on the floor. The showbiz pages were scattered across her bed. She couldn't bring herself to move. This was the final straw. She couldn't take another second of this. Not another word.  
Slowly, she let her eyes go over the crumpled pages. She would call him tomorrow. No, today. She would do it now. She looked reluctantly at the phone. Then she sighed and she put the plug back into the socket. The phone rang immediately; she answered it automatically. She knew who was calling before he even said his name.  
"Tay," he said. "I've been trying to call you all morning."  
"I was just going to call you," she said in a detached tone.  
"I just want to say I'm sorry," he said quickly, obviously afraid she would hang up.  
"Don't worry about it, I'm used to this." She still managed to sound emotionless.  
"I know."  
They were quiet for a few seconds.  
"I'm sorry though, I should've known they were watching."  
"It's okay."  
"Are you sure you're all right?"  
"Yeah," she lied. She didn't fool him.  
"Taylor, should I come over?" he said, sounding more worried.  
"No," she said, a bit too quickly. "I was just going to call you to talk about that."  
He kept silent.  
"I don't think we should see each other anymore," she sighed.  
"What? But-"  
"It's not... good for us. They'll tear us apart." A tear rolled down her cheek. She tried to sound as impassive as she could.  
"But it wasn't that bad last time!" he said, with an angry edge to his voice.  
"Haven't you noticed how they're treating me now, Taylor?" she was sobbing now. "They hate me."  
"They don't hate you, they just like a good story," he said more loudly. "Tay, I'll come over. I'll be there in-"  
"No, don't come," she said. She looked up and blinked a few times, trying to stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Taylor." And she hung up the phone. It immediately rang again, and she pulled the plug out for the second time.

It wasn't until an hour later that she stopped staring at the newspaper pages and ate breakfast and brushed her teeth. After she finished, she decided to get some distraction. She had another meeting about the tour this afternoon, and she spent the rest of the morning drawing visuals they could use. From time to time, waves of panic crept into her mind, but she tried to ignore them. She was getting better at this.

By the time she left for the meeting, only a nagging feeling of discomfort was left from the panic. She could deal with this. It would go away soon, and she would have forgotten all about it in a matter of weeks. That's what she told herself.  
The meeting went well, and they made good progress on the visuals and the transporting difficulties. Nobody seemed to notice anything odd about her behaviour. None of them mentioned the photos in the papers.  
When she got home, she cooked one of her favourite Indian recipes and worked on some lyrics. She would have to call Nathan about this soon. They had to work on the demo she was making when-  
No. Stop thinking right there.

She was pretty proud of herself, holding her composure this way. She went to bed early, hoping to get enough sleep for tomorrow. Rehearsals were usually quite exhausting. She tucked herself in, turned her nightlight off and closed her eyes.

Five minutes later, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, sobbing. Who was she kidding? As soon as she closed her eyes with nothing to distract her, she broke down. What had she done? She'd broken his heart once, and now she'd done it again. For months after they'd split up the first time, she had prayed for him to come back like he did. Now her wish had been granted, and she'd thrown it all away. And for what? For a newspaper article. So they'd stay away from her for once. What had looked like the rational thing to do in the light of day, now seemed like the most foolish thing she could have done.  
And he was probably not even in town anymore. Now that he'd talked to the director, he was probably on his way back to LA. Well, then. She'd messed up again. Now she would have to bear it. Still crying, she got up and walked to her computer. Online antique shopping could usually calm her down a little.  
After looking through a couple of her favourite websites with no luck, she went to John's webpage. Maybe it was done already. She'd advised him to start a website for his store a few months ago, and he'd asked one of his friends for help.  
It was, and it looked pretty good. On the home page, there was a picture of John behind the desk of the store. She almost smiled. He always seemed so calm and content, always knowing what to do.  
She clicked on the 'new arrivals' page, and looked for cabinets. A woman could never have enough antique cabinets.  
She spent some time looking at the pictures, and she particularly liked a dark brown one with two drawers. It would look great with her new table. She turned off the computer and glanced at her bed. As soon as she let go of the distracting thoughts, the panic threatened to wash over her again.

She got through the night one hour at a time. Sometimes she got up to get some water, or to stare at the phone wondering if he was awake. When the sun began to rise, it was a relief.

At rehearsals, people noticed that she looked tired. She told them she was just very busy, and they seemed to buy it. I wasn't uncommon for her to look tired during rehearsals, so she didn't have to deal with many questions. She tried to focus on planning and performing as much as she could. She could break down again later; there was no need to do it in front of everyone.

After rehearsals, she decided to go to John's store to look at the cabinet before someone else got it. When she came in, his eyes lit up.  
"Hey, Taylor, how are you?" He asked.  
"I'm... okay," she said. She could never really lie to him. He didn't believe her.  
"What's wrong?" He asked, before she'd said anything else.  
"I'm just tired. I just finished rehearsing," she replied.  
"How's the other Taylor?" He said casually, while she was looking at the new arrivals next to the desk. His innocent question made her feel ice cold. She shivered.  
"Have you seen him at all since he came in a few weeks ago?" she replied.  
"No, I'm pretty sure he just came in to see you."  
She blinked a few times. The shock kept her from saying anything for a few seconds.  
"What do you mean? He couldn't have known that I would be here." She walked towards a couple of cabinets standing in the corner and she didn't look at him, trying to sound casual. She failed miserably.  
"I told him," he said lightly.  
She spun around and looked at him.  
"What?" In her bewilderment, she forgot to sound polite.  
"He ran into the store when some paparazzi were chasing him. I told him when you would come to pick up your table."  
She'd suspected something like that. Taylor had come in at exactly the right time, to help her carry the table, as he'd explained it.  
"But why did you tell him that?"  
"You'd rather I hadn't?" he smiled.  
"No," she said automatically. "But why did you?"  
"He's a good guy. I thought you might need another chance." He said softly. "Did it work?"  
"Well, yes," she sighed. "But I'm afraid I messed up again."  
He cocked his head to one side and looked at her without saying anything for a moment.  
"I'll make some tea. Sit down if you want, we'll have a chat." And he walked through the door behind the desk.


	9. Letter

"Please sit down and fasten your seatbelts; we're going to land," a steward's voice said through the speakers.  
Taylor fastened his seatbelt and looked out the window. The city lights of LA were coming closer. He rested his head against the headrest. He heard the echo of her words in his head. 'I don't think we should see each other anymore.'  
He'd been stupid. The paparazzi had been hunting them for years. It was the stupidest way he could have messed up.  
'I'm sorry, Taylor.' The sound of her voice when she'd said it wouldn't stop haunting him. It were the same words she'd used the first time.  
Well, it was over now. She would go on tour and he would stay in LA for filming. Tomorrow he would confirm his role in the film and do lots of interviews about it, and he would be too busy to think about her.  
This prospect made him feel a little better.  
He just needed to stay away from the newspapers and magazines.  
And the radio.  
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. This was going to be impossible.  
The plane flew lower and lower. He could see the vague lines of the runway. Soon, he would be at his apartment. Alone. It was a place where he could think.

After landing and walking through the group of paparazzi who were ready to welcome him home, he got into a taxi. When he got home, he left his suitcase in the hallway, went to the dinner table, got a piece of paper and drew a vertical line. He saw two options. He wrote the first one on the left side.  
'1. Leave her alone and get on with my life.'  
He frowned. Writing it down stung him more than thinking the words. He quickly continued with option two, which he wrote at the right side of the line.  
'2. Beg her to take me back.' Or maybe something less dramatic.  
He pretended to think about the choice for a few minutes. But his mind was already made up. It had been since he'd seen her in the cafe weeks ago.  
It wasn't going to be easy. She wouldn't take him back just like that. But this mess had to end. They were carefully getting closer and then letting go all the time. They needed to stop it or get together, or they were both going to have to deal with even more pain. At least he had to know that he'd tried.  
What would be the best way to do this? Call her? No, she would probably hang up the phone.  
He didn't have time to get on a plane to see her in the next couple of weeks. If he would have any free time at all, it wouldn't be enough to fly back and forth.  
Write a letter?  
He thought about it for a minute. It was definitely a romantic idea. The noble knight pouring all his love into the words he would seal and send to the damsel that had stolen his heart. He got another piece of paper and a pen.

An hour later, he gave up, still staring at the blank paper in front of him. He left it on the table and went to bed.  
He woke up every hour, haunted by dreams about the phone call. Dreams about the gala. Dreams about what he would have said to her, if he'd gotten the chance.  
After a few hours, he gave up on trying to sleep. So he just stared at the ceiling in the darkness.  
If only he could write songs, like her. He would write a song that described how he felt perfectly. She would know it was about her, just like he'd known Back To December was about him.  
Too bad he couldn't sing. The best he could do was probably do some grape catching to illustrate his feelings of affection. Or do some emotional karate kicks.  
He would just stick to the letter. He would finish it tomorrow after the interviews and then send it immediately, before he changed his mind.


	10. Theft

"I know. Can we cancel that, though?" Taylor was walking on the sidewalk in a fast pace, clutching her phone.  
"No, I really can't. I need to go to LA tomorrow. I need to arrange some things."  
With every step she took, she felt more determined. She would pack her bags and get on a plane to Los Angeles. They couldn't stop her.  
"No, I can't do it over the phone. I have to go there myself. We can reschedule the interview."  
When she'd finally persuaded her mother's assistant, she hung up the phone and continued walking towards her apartment. As soon as she got there, she threw some clothes and a toothbrush into a suitcase and called the airport to make sure she could get on a flight to LA tonight. She felt the pain in her chest disappear with every step that would bring her closer to him. She didn't allow herself to think of what would happen if he didn't want her anymore, just like last time. She wouldn't be too late now. Not this time. She'd learned from what had happened two years ago.

She ordered a taxi to the airport. She didn't have to wait for a long time before her flight, but there were some paparazzi who were always around the Nashville airport. They almost seemed to live there. For once, she didn't care. She only cared about getting to him. They'd ruined enough relationships already.

The four hour flight seemed much longer than it was. She had more than enough time to think about what she hadn't considered when getting on a plane in a rush: what she was going to do when she got there.  
It would be 10 p.m. before they even landed. Then she had to find a place to sleep, and there was no way she could burst through his apartment door unannounced at night. She didn't want to scare the hell out of him. She would at least have to wait until morning. She began feeling uneasy again. Maybe she should've taken a more subtle approach, instead of flying halfway across the country. But John's words had made her very determined. They always did. She wasn't going to lose Taylor again.

The plane landed a few hours later and she looked at the city lights through the window. They announced that the passengers could leave, and she hurried to the flight hall, with her fellow travellers. She got her suitcase and went outside, where the taxi cabs were lined up. When she was walking towards them, she felt a light tugging on her back. She turned around quickly and looked down automatically. Her purse was gone. And so was her suitcase, which she'd put beside her.  
She saw two men running away.  
"STOP!" She yelled. She ran after them, but she couldn't keep up. They were too fast. No one else seemed to have noticed it. She kept running, because she didn't know what else to do. After a few blocks, she slowed down, gasping for air. A feeling of despair washed over her. She stopped and looked around. It was dark and she had no idea where she was. What was she even thinking, coming here? Now she had nothing. And she didn't have a ticket back to Nashville yet, and her money was gone. And the keys to her own apartment in the hills – which was too far away anyway – were too.

Then, a determined sense of action kicked in. She had to figure out what to do. First things first: she had to call the police. And block her credit card. So she needed to find a phone.  
She started walking again, feeling uncomfortable on the barely lit road. Who knew who was waiting in the shadows here. She shivered and sped up her pace. She needed to find a hotel or something.  
After walking for a few minutes, she heard music coming from a building on the corner of the street. Her heart started beating faster. There were probably people there. She walked on, and to her relief, it was a bar. There were some scary-looking guys standing outside wearing leather jackets. She quickly walked past them, into the bar.  
It was noisy and smoky inside. She coughed and looked around. It was quite crowded. She actually preferred the cold street over this, so she quickly headed to the counter to ask if she could use the phone. There were some people sitting there, on bar stools.  
He was sitting there motionlessly.  
She almost didn't notice him.


	11. Words

_Thank you for the kind reviews! I hope you enjoy the next chapter._

She gasped and held on to the bar to stay on her feet.  
"Taylor," she choked. "What are you doing here?"  
He looked just as surprised as she felt. "I could ask you the same thing."  
The sense of shock faded and an intense feeling of happiness replaced it. She felt safe standing next to him, even in the crowded bar with her luggage stolen.  
"I was... I came to see you," she admitted.  
"Really?" He said, sounding even more surprised. "What on earth were you doing in here, then?"  
"Well, I got robbed," she sighed.  
"Robbed?" Taylor answered, alarmed. "When?"  
"Just a few minutes ago."  
His eyes wandered, looking at the street through the door windows.  
"They're gone. I ran after them, but I got lost," she said.  
"Taylor," he sighed. "Why did you come to see me anyway? I thought..." his voice trembled.  
This wasn't the place to talk about this. What was he doing in this smoky place anyway?  
"Let's go somewhere else," she said softly. He nodded.  
They walked out – Taylor held onto Taylors arm tightly – into the cold street.  
Taylor shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her. She used to refuse taking his jacket, but this time she didn't; she hadn't worn any of them in years. It was about time.  
"Why did you go into the bar?" He asked. "It's no place for you," he added, but in a friendly tone.  
"I was looking for a phone," she said, while suddenly remembering what she needed to do.  
"Can I use yours? I need to block my credit card."  
"Sure," he said. "It's in the left pocket."  
She took it out of the jacket she was now wearing and called the number she had memorised. He had often laughed at her for how prepared she was for everything that could happen. But this time, it proved to be useful.

After having taken care of it, she put the cell phone back into the pocket. She suddenly felt his arm around her.  
"So why did you want to see me?" He asked, while they walked. He seemed to know where they were going, so Taylor went with him. He could have taken her anywhere, though, and she still would have followed him.  
"I..." she bit her lip. Suddenly, she didn't know how to put it into words anymore. Hadn't she rehearsed this on the plane? Where was her carefully thought out plan? She couldn't remember it.  
"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."  
It was an honest answer, but with a painful edge, because these were the words she'd used last time when he left her. But she didn't feel the tension in the air like that time, because she felt like she might not be too late now.  
"Really?" His voice sounded intensely hopeful; she looked up to his eyes and saw them glowing. "Yes," she whispered. They were already walking more slowly and they came to a stop. "I shouldn't have said those things to you. I swear I won't let the cameras tear us apart again." She hesitated. "If you still want me, that is."  
"Of course, Taylor," he said incredulously, "I'm not going to let you slip away a second time."  
He took her face in his hands and kissed her like he'd never kissed her before. This was different from the last time he'd kissed her: that one had been quick, desperate and confusing. This kiss was something else entirely. His soft lips were warm and gentle against hers, yet with burning passion, like no one had ever left anyone.  
"Tay," he choked, when she put her hands on the back of his head. She couldn't respond. She was frozen in the moment. She didn't want it to end. Finally, he let go of her and looked at her with burning eyes.  
"I'm sorry too," he whispered. "I shouldn't have refused to take you back."  
"Of course you should have," she whispered back, more calmly than she thought she would be capable of. "You had every right to."  
"I know," he breathed. "But that doesn't mean it was the right thing to do. It doesn't mean it wasn't the stupidest thing I've ever done."  
There was no need for words anymore. They could have stood there on the sidewalk until dawn, if it hadn't started raining. And even then, they didn't leave. They only started to walk towards the taxi stands when she started shivering. And still, he wouldn't let go of her.


	12. Sunrise

The light beams which were falling in through the window touched her face and woke her up. She held her eyes closed for a minute, enjoying the vague sensation you feel when something good has happened the night before, but you're still too drowsy to remember it.  
She finally opened her eyes and to her surprise, she was looking at an unfamiliar ceiling.  
Unfamiliar? It wasn't her own, but she recognised the antique lamp hanging from it and the striped pattern of the paint, with some drips where he'd made mistakes...  
The reality of the night before hit here with a sudden intensity and overwhelmed her with a powerful feeling of joy. She was suddenly aware of his shoulder underneath her head, and his other arm wrapped around her. He was breathing slowly and evenly. She blinked a few times to make sure it wasn't a dream. She looked up at his face and it was peaceful, with a hint of a smile on his lips. She could also see his night table standing next to the bed. She couldn't breathe for a minute when she saw the picture that was next to his alarm clock. It was the picture of the two of them in Venice. She'd had it too, and she'd kept it for a couple of weeks, but she'd burned it in a wave of despair. Had he kept it there for two years? She knew he'd dated other people. Apparently he'd never thrown it away. She'd never felt guilty for burning her print, but now she felt a sting of unease when she realised how easy it had been for her compared to what he'd suffered. At least she'd thought she didn't need him anymore, and she'd been able to force herself to believe that for months.  
He made a soft, groaning sound, and she looked back to his face. His eyes opened slowly, and they looked incredulous when he saw her laying beside him.  
"Tay," he said, his voice hoarse.  
"Hi," she answered, her voice also breaking.  
"I thought it was a dream," he chuckled. "I thought I would wake up alone and you would still be in Nashville." He pulled her a bit closer.  
She didn't say anything back. She just answered by putting her face to his chest. She realised she should probably thank him, but she didn't want to break the moment by saying another word.  
They stayed like that for a while. Neither of them said anything. The sunlight slowly became brighter.  
He looked at his alarm clock and whispered: "We have another ten minutes. I need to get to the set."  
"I didn't know filming had already started." She closed her eyes to stretch out the moment a little longer.  
"Yeah," he said.  
She suddenly thought of something. "Did anyone see us last night?"  
"I don't think so. That's why I went to that part of town. No one ever goes into bars like that except those biker types. It's the last place they'd go looking for scoop."  
She didn't ask why he'd wanted to escape the paparazzi that badly. She knew what it felt like.  
"I'll leave an hour after you do. I don't think they'll still be hiding in your bushes anymore by then."  
He suddenly jerked upright and looked at her. "You're leaving?" He said, his eyes widening.  
"Well, I only have a day. I think I need to get back on a plane this afternoon." She pulled herself upright as well and let her hand run through his messy morning hair.  
"But you don't have any stuff," he objected.  
"Oh, that's right." She slumped back down. "My luggage."  
He took a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. "I'll give you some money to buy a ticket back to Nashville. Were your car keys stolen too?"  
"Thanks. No, my keys are at the parking service desk. They did take the keys to my apartment, though."  
She shivered and wished fervently that the thieves hadn't recognised her and didn't know where she lived.  
He reached to the drawer of his night table without letting go of her and opened it. He searched for a bit and his hand came out with a key. He dropped it in her lap.  
"There you go."  
Taylor picked it up and studied it.  
"Is that... my key?"  
"Well, it's a key to your house, yes."  
She looked at him in surprise.  
"You gave it to me once."  
Of course. She'd given him a copy when they were together. Two years ago. Hadn't he thrown anything away? Had he kept everything? She didn't dare to ask. No need to rip open old wounds.  
"Thank you," she answered. She snuggled a bit closer to him and breathed in his scent. She hadn't even realised how much she really missed him until she got him back. Well, they hadn't explicitly stated that they were back together, but last night had been enough affirmation.  
"I love you," she whispered, tasting the words in her mouth once again.  
He smiled at her, never taking his eyes off her face. "I love you too," he answered.  
Then, the moment was finally interrupted by his alarm clock. She moaned quietly. He turned it off.  
"I'm sorry," he said.  
"I know you have to go," she sighed.  
He rested his lips against her hair.  
"It's okay," she murmured. "I'll stay here for another hour and I'll go back."  
"When will I see you again?"  
She could hear the pain in his voice.  
"I've got a day off in two weeks. The twentieth."  
"I'll see if I can get that day off too." He kissed her hair.

They didn't let go of each other until he went out the door.


	13. 13

For the next couple of months, they saw each other as often as both their schedules permitted. Of course, after a few weeks, the paparazzi found out, but they didn't care. When they were in Nashville, they could always count on John to give them a refuge when it got too bad.  
Her parents were overjoyed. They'd always thought that Taylor was the right guy for her. His family approved of it too, even though he'd been hurt before. It sounds cliché to say it, but it was perfect. The only thing that wasn't was that they were both so busy – she was touring and he was filming – that they hardly had any time to spend with each other. Their friends complained about not getting to spend time with them. Sometimes they just invited everyone over so they could be together and be with their friends at the same time. They tried to get the same days off, so they could go swimming, have a pick nick or watch movies together.

Today, he had arranged for them to go to a lake and hire a boat. She'd been hesitant when he'd suggested it; she knew he wasn't fond of boats, and even though she was, she wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable. But he had reassured her and here they were, floating on the water. As she'd expected, he'd tried his hand at rowing and failed miserably. He had refused to hand her the paddles, unwilling to let her do any work, but in the end he had to give in. She'd gotten them to the middle of the lake and they were enjoying the light breeze and the sparkle the sun created on the water.

"Thanks for taking over," he laughed.  
"Well, if I hadn't, we'd still be stuck by the shore," she chuckled.  
"True."  
He bent forward and gave her a long kiss. She would never take this for granted, no matter how many of these she would get. She wouldn't have appreciated every moment they had together if she hadn't known what it was like to live without him.  
"I remember seeing you in that café," she murmured. "You were standing across the street."  
He smiled at the memory.  
"What were you doing there?" She asked curiously.  
"I was looking for you," he said, leaving her surprised.  
"Really?"  
"Well, I'd been at your house. But you weren't there, so I parked my car there and went for a walk. I wasn't expecting to find you. You could've been out of town for all I knew. And then I saw you there. I'd told myself that I just wanted to see you once, but after that, I couldn't let it go." He linked his fingers with hers. She stared across the grey water, remembering it. She'd felt the same way, not even knowing what she wanted until she got it.  
"Look at that boat," he said, and he pointed at something behind her. She turned around to see it.  
"What is it?" she couldn't see anything. They were alone. She turned back around and gasped.  
He was holding a little box with a ring in it.  
"Tay," she choked, and she pressed her hand to her mouth in shock.  
"Taylor," he said softly, "I've known that I want to spend my life with you since the moment I first laid eyes on you. I never expected this to happen. But I'm not going to let it slip through my fingers."  
She couldn't speak. She just stared at him in blank surprise.  
He took her hand.  
"Taylor Alison Swift," he said. "Will you marry me?"  
She just nodded. He gently put the ring on her finger. It felt natural, like it was supposed to be there. She flung her arms around him.  
"Oh, Tay," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. She heard his soft chuckle, filled with emotion.  
"Go pick out a white dress," he whispered back into her ear.  
She laughed and let go of him.  
"Forever this time," she said. He nodded and smiled.  
She took his hand and held onto it tightly, as they watched the sparkles dancing on the water.

_The End_

**Thank you for reading this fanfic and for your lovely comments! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm going to be writing another Taylor fic, and the first chapter is already up. It's called Treacherous, so check it out if you're interested. **


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